critical veins || peterick

chapter two

People are staring at me as I walk past. Anxiety travels down my spine as I wander various hallways, unsure of where to go. I have the paper marking my schedule for this school, but they didn't include a layout of the campus. And asking someone would require speaking- an ability I lost long ago. Biting my lip, I slip through the crowd, looking at the ground.

"Hey, you!"

Due to the clashing vocies of the corridor, I assume that call is for someone else. That is, until I feel a tap on my shoulder and I whirl around, surprised. My breathing hitches, as I am not used to interacting directly with a person; or having someone attempt to interact with me directly.

A girl with long black hair and glasses stares at me with concerned eyes. "Are you new here?" she asks, her voice gentle and soft. I relax a bit, that tone reminding me of the warmth my mother had whenever she conversed with me.

I nod. Her face brightens. "I'd be glad to show you where your classes are, if you'd like."

My action from before is repeated. Then we pause; what are we waiting for?- until I realize I must point out what teacher I'm seeking out, and I feel embarrassed. My cheeks warm as I hurriedly pull out my crumpled schedule paper and point with a shaky finger at the name marked for first period.

"Oh!" she says, recognition sparkling in her exclamation. "Your first period is Ms. Smith. I have the same class." As she scans the rest of the names, she adds, "Well! You appear to be in most of the classes I'm in." She straightens up, adjusting her glasses. "This will make being a guide for you easy. What's your name, by the way?"

I gesture to the top of the sheet, where my name is. Patrick Vaughn Martin "Stumph" Stump. The girl reads it, her face polite, and then asks me one more thing.

"Are you mute?"

And once more all I can do is nod. She returns the action and gently takes my hand in her clasp. This movement startles me but before I can respond with an expression, she turns away and slowly leads me past students talking with each other or checking their phones constantly for updates.

She looks back momentarily. "I'm Melody, by the way. My friends call me Mel." She pauses. "But...I suppose you won't be calling me by my name." And then a cringe. "Sorry, was that insensitive?"

I shake my head and she finally pulls me out of the crowd near a less occupied space, where the nameplate for Ms. Smith sticks out on the wall. Melody checks her watch. "Classes begin in a few moments, which doesn't give me enough time for a tour, although I'd be glad to give you the run-down of Harper High." Instead of nodding I smile, and she takes that as a yes.

"Harper High is, unfortunately, like many of the stereotypical high schools you see featured in chick flicks or other teen films. There are certain groups, classified by popularity, looks, or what  they're known for- you know, elective wise. And, ah, after-school wise, if you catch my drift." Melody's voice drops. "Those who do drugs and get drunk on countless parties." She picks up on a higher octave. "There appear to be rivalries between each group, you could say. They don't usually, like, interact. How would I know? I'm not the type to join any 'groups'. And, uh, no offense, you don't seem like on either."

I shrug, but a bit of me worries. A stereotypical high school setting does not cause good impact on the short mute kid. I wish I could shrink, simply disappear- but I cannot.

Melody has carried on about something else, but now I'm lost in thoughts. Negativity and fear and rolls of panic. More like waves. Then the sharp ring of the school bell interrupts both my thoughts and her endless ramble. Mel looks at me, then opens the door with a small grin. I offer a fake smile, and head into the white-colored room, feeling vague in the presence of more desks, arranged in the usual school-like order.

An older woman is sitting at the desk pushed against the wall, and looks up at my arrival. She does a double take, obviously because I'm not a student of hers. Yet.

"Ms. Smith, this is Patrick Stump. He's new here."

"Thank you Melody, I'm sure Patrick can speak for himself," Ms. Smith says in a husky voice. She stares straight at me and I feel myself slightly wilting. I'm not used to seemingly intimidating looks of older teachers. But what worries me most, is that she really does expect me to say something.

Thankfully, Mel jumps in once more despite the obvious dismissal. "Miss, ah, Patrick is...mute. He doesn't spe-"

"I know what mute is," the teacher snaps. The wilting feeling is replaced with embarrassment. And I would have spoken. But I didn't. I shied away again.

"Well, Patrick. I suppose we ought to make some...adjustments around your case. I've dealt with the silent before."

Her tone of voice sparks a bit of rage within me, though I push it down. Anything of fury must be melted away before I snap. After all, one sly teacher can't be that bad, right?

~

sorry this chapter sucked i was having a bit of writer's block and had to write in spurts bc i was handling some stuff while doin so